


Golden Eyes

by hopefulundertone



Category: Skulduggery Pleasant - Derek Landy
Genre: M/M, Sad, Spoilers for Last Stand, angsty, ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-12
Updated: 2014-05-12
Packaged: 2018-01-24 05:05:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1592645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopefulundertone/pseuds/hopefulundertone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ghastly's last thoughts as he dies at his old friend's feet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Golden Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys  
> I hope you like this one, I had to do this, in honour of a brilliant, fantastic character and his last words. I don't think I did it justice, but here it is, based on Ghastly's last words.

Ghastly Bespoke was aware of many things as life left his failing body. The coldness of death, the pain that was somehow agonising and numb at the same time. The bright red of his blood spurting out of his throat. The warmth of it gushing over his fingers. And Ravel's golden eyes.  

He remembers the first time he saw those eyes. The first time the Dead Men had worked as a unit. He can remember it all, strangely.

_Erskine Ravel is standing beside him as they volunteer for the suicide mission. He looks sideways at him, sizing him up. Ravel and Hopeless are the only ones on the team he's never worked with before, but their reputation precedes them. He is immediately struck by the luminescent gold of Ravel's eyes, and watches them carefully._

_Over the years of missions and training together, Ghastly slowly realises that his friend's eyes only turn gold if he's feeling a strong emotion. Any other time, his eyes are just a light brown. He likes the brown, but the golden pupils always make his heart beat irregularly, for some reason. The first few times Ghastly saw the gold is when they went on suicide missions, in the early days. It was born out of fear back then, and it just made Ghastly want to help, but they were still strangers then, after all, so he didn't do a thing._

_It's been several years, and the Dead Men are as close a unit as can be. Ghastly and Ravel are hiding in a broom closet, in a sentry outpost. They're waiting on the rest to come for them. The orders was for the rest to go in at dawn, but the Dead Men know when one of them is in trouble, so Ghastly knows they will be rescued soon. Whether it's soon enough, though, he can't tell. The dark is suffocating, but Ghastly doesn't mind too much, at least they're safe. He can tell Ravel doesn't feel the same, though, judging by his quick breaths. It's quickly escalating to hyperventilation, and Ghastly knows that it'll be all downhill from there. He reaches out and grasps Ravel's arm, almost blinded by the strong pulses of golden light emanating from his eyes._

_"Erskine."_

_A quick, breathy reply. "Yeah?"_

_“They’re coming.”_

_“Yeah.”_

_“We’ll be fine.”_

_“...Yeah.”_

_Ghastly sighs quietly, sliding in the cramped space until he is angled relatively beside Ravel, whom he can half-see, half-feel was trembling. He lays a hand on Ravel’s arm tentatively, feeling the clenched muscles twitch for a second, before slackening. The Elemental leans into him, frame juddering as he inhales. The ex-tailor grimaces, slipping a hand around Ravel's tense shoulders. "It's gonna be fine. They'll get us out of here." He doesn't know what else he said, he was rambling,what matters most is the soothing tone of his voice. He keeps it down, aware of the occasional footsteps outside the closet, but he continues rubbing Ravel's back lightly, feeling his companion sigh shakily._

They got rescued eventually, Ghastly remembers dimly. Skulduggery had managed to sneak in with Dexter and Larrikin to find them in the broom closet, and they never talked about it again. He gazes up at Ravel, who deliberately isn’t looking at him, lips trembling. He remembers those too, as a matter of fact.

_It’s just after the war, and the Dead Men are still reeling from the abrupt ending. There is no place for soldiers such as they in peacetime, and already they are fading into obscurity. They will always be remembered as the Dead Men, but those who had truly understood the terror they struck in their opponents’ hearts were mostly dead, lying under piles and piles of bodies. The situation calls for a drink, and they rise readily to the occasion, heading to the nearest pub with every intention of getting themselves royally pissed._

_Ghastly sits at the edge of the group, nursing a whiskey. He’s not really one for drinking, but tonight is an exception. Taking a draught, he watches as Saracen, Larrikin and Dexter laugh and fool around, Anton shaking his head amusedly and Descry chuckling at them as they trade tall stories, mostly about their ‘conquests’, more than half of which Ghastly is willing to bet are completely made up. Skulduggery perches on a stool, cracking a joke or two, but he can hear the strain in the skeleton’s voice. Something isn’t right._

_A hand drops unexpectedly onto his shoulder, and Ravel is standing there, completely and utterly smashed, actually swaying on his feet as he looks at Ghastly. “Can I talk to you?”_

_Ghastly shrugs, glancing over at the group. Descry watches him knowingly, mind-reader that he is, and Saracen just smirks, but the rest of them don’t notice as Ghastly follows Ravel out. The night is chilly, and he sniffs at the air, revelling in the fresh, untainted, clean smell, free of blood and filth and misery. It’s over, he thinks, before letting out a cry of surprise; Ravel has for some reason captured his lips, and he struggles half-heartedly for a moment before relenting and reciprocating. He knows this isn’t Ravel, he can literally taste the alcohol burning his tongue, which is for some reason in Ravel’s mouth, but he doesn’t- can’t- care, because he’s wanted this for-_

_It takes him a moment to realise Ravel has drawn back, eyes darkened, pupils completely dilated and glowing golden. He’s vaguely aware of being up against the rough wall of the pub, and then they’re only given a second’s notice before Larrikin comes out, whining about how they’re not joining in the fun. His eyes widen at the sight of the two of them, and he mumbles an apology before backing away and back inside, and with that Ghastly knows the spell is broken, and his common sense comes rushing back. It takes a moment to disentangle Ravel from him, but he eventually separates himself from the swaying, drunk Elemental, and they go back in._

_Descry is smirking subtly at him, and Larrikin is staring at them, but when the rest question him he just shrugs and makes a wisecrack about stealing Ravel’s ‘girl’, and just like that, they accept it, even Larrikin, who still looks shocked, but shakes his head when Ghastly looks at him. He won’t tell, and neither will Descry, Ghastly knows. Ravel has apparently passed out on the floor, and nobody pays him any mind, except for smacking him awake and carrying him back when that doesn’t work._

A ghost of a smile creeps up on Ghastly’s face, and his blue lips twitch as he gazes up at Ravel. He doesn’t know why Erskine would do this, but he assumes it’s for a good reason. That isn’t to say that he isn’t angry, he would dislocate Ravel’s jaw right now if he had the strength, but there’s nothing he can do, really. Flashes of friends, of laughter and tears, of the brothers he’d formed such a close bond with through the most traumatic years of his life, his family. He thinks about everything he regretted, like not searching harder for Tanith, and protesting louder when he was elected Elder, and maybe, just maybe, not stopping Ravel that night. He doubts it would’ve changed anything, if he hadn’t he would most likely still be lying here spurting blood.

The pain is finally starting to fade away, and he knows he is close. Black oblivion edges his vision and he watches as Ravel looks down at him, golden eyes brimming with tears he would wipe away if he had the strength. He opens his mouth, fully intending to speak, to tell Ravel… But his jaw slackens and he finally blacks out, and the last thing Ghastly Bespoke ever saw was a pair of golden eyes.

****  
  


_And he became aware of Ravel’s eyes, brimming with tears, those eyes of his that had many a lady swooning down over him through the centuries. Those golden eyes._

  
  



End file.
